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FOREIGN FRIENDSHIPS. 

A COMEDY SKETCH, 

IN ONE SCENE. 



By THOMAS SHERID^lSr, 

AUTHOB. 

Residence, 32 Scsiinmel Street, Is ew York City. 



ALL EIGHTS RESERVED. 



NEW YORK 

1883. 






'oi'' 



CAST OF CHARACTERS. 

HENRY BLUM, T. Shei-idan. 

PATRICK O'DAY, T. Donnelly. 

DENIS CLANCY, T. Sheridan. 



TMP96-G0o733 



FOREIGN FRIENDSHIPS. 



SCE^-E— Plain kitchen in private house. Enter Henry jrom D in 
L, laughing, and displaijing a butcher's basket filled with vegetables. 

Henry. Well, what he says is true : " To be happy, you must 
be on friendly terms with yourself." I think he must be on 
friendly terms with my master— or his money. One dollar and 
twenty cents for what's there ! Well, that's the most friendly 
terms I ever knew. Well, I like happiness, no matter what it 
costs, and so does the grocer. O, I was happy! {Lifting gar- 
lic) Dat's what keeps a good many mouths from coming together 
twice. O, I was so happy ! {Peeling potatoes) Now I'll take the 
jackets off the pride of Ireland, und make some linings. O, I 
was so happy ! But three months ago I was not happy : then I 
had nothing to eat. But now I hold the key of the bread-basket ; 
I could starve a family. Yes, three months ago I was not happy. 
Sometimes I have thoughts, and then I don't was happy. 0, I 
love my country ; I love dat beautiful place where all was happy ! 
But my Missis says we had no comfort there ; but I had the best 
comfort life could have, and that was happiness. There was the 
beautiful fields and hills, and the river so calm at night that no 
such thing as ill-comfort could be thought of. Ah ! the home of 
my love was that river Ehine ; and there one night, as the moon 
shone on the river, and the bell in the tower tolled the hour of 
nine, I whispered words to my loved one— words that haunt me 
as the last words of my mother ! It was to my dear Katerine I 
spoke. I said good-bye, and it was the last good-bye 'neath the 

old towering bell. 

o 



SONG. 

THE TOWEEINO BELLS. 

Flow on, sweet thoughts ; gently move ; 
Bring o'er my mem'ry scenes that I love. 
Hap'ly I'll sing, O hear the ring. 
Sweet time, dear chime, of the old tower bell ! 
Now I've my childhood and my home back again ; 
Green are the fields, and the birds sing the same. 
O joy ! I'm mazy, happy, light, and merry ! 
Fling out your chimes, and make the air swell ! 

Chobus : King out, ye bells, and banish all sorrow ; 
Fears of the morrow vanish in thy swells ! 
(Iie2oeat. ) 

O how the thoughts of scenes that are dear 
Soothe the expectant while in Stupor's care ! 
Pictures are drawn of love's early morn ; 
Sadly they vanish, and life's but a shell. 
Still I hear the ringing of the bell-throated wren 
'Neath the leafy arches in the sweet-scented glen ; 
Merrily he's singing ; glad, free bells are ringing : 

let me linger beneath the towering bell ! 

Chorus : King out, ye bells, &c. (Repeat.) 

Bright shines the moon, still is the air ; 
Summer's sweet beauties are wrapt in night's care. 
Dearer by far is the sight of the star 
That sweetens the music in love's truest cell : 

1 see thee shining as I'm leaving thy sight — 

Gone ! still she's beaming o'er my still and dark night. 
Now life's a pleasure, with thy vows to treasure : 
I see thee shining beneath the towering bell ! 

Choeus : King out, ye bells, &c. (Repeat.) 

Henry. {Ruttinrj vegetables in basket.) Well, well, well ! I was 
so happy that I forgot myself all the time. Now that servant-girl 
told me to have these ready at twelve o'clock. They say that 
memory is the soul of knowledge, but^ I think mine must be 
worn out. {Tube sounds.) There she is now — dat's Bridget! 
O she was so cute ! She does dat at me {making motion with right 
hand as if to tap lightly)— "111 strike you"; und I do dat at 
her {reioeating motion). She flirts at me when I'm in the garden 

4 



and she is at the washtub. {Tube sounds.) O dat's her— I can 
tell the sound of her lungs. Well, Bridget, what is it ? 

BKiDaET. (Sup20osed to be answering.) I don't want you to call 
me Bridget. Call me Delia. - 

Henry. You don't want me to call you Bridget. Call you 
Delia. Why will I call you Delia ? 

Beidget. Delia is short. 

Henry. Delia is short ! (Aside) Why, she is as broad as sbe 
can be ! (To Bridget) Well, I'll call you Delia for short. 

Bridget. And I'll call you Hen for short. 

Henry. And you'll call me Hen for short— n o, you wont, 
nor for long neither ! {Aside) By-und-by she'll want to make a 
rooster of me! {Tube sounds.) Well 

Bridget. There is some one coming down to see you. 

Henry. Some one coming down to see me — ^what for ? 

Bridget. I don't know. He is some Irish friend of yours. 

Henry. Some Irish friend of mine ? Why, I never had an 
Irish friend in the world except yourself 1 

Bridget. I'll smack your face ! 

Henry. You'll smack my face ? I'll smack your mouth ; put 
it up till I try. {Makes a smack kiss through tube.) I'm not fool- 
ing ; you can have that all for yourself. 

Bridget. He is some Irish greenhorn who wants to gee the 

butler. 

{Enter greenhorn, Patrick O'Bay.) 

Henry. Some Irish greenhorn who wants to see the butler ? 
I don't think I can mix in with the Irish; so good-bye. {Fat 
thinks the good-bye is meant for him, and turns to go out.) A rem- 
nant from the Irish wind ! Well, you want to see me ? 

Pat. I want to see the butler. 

Henry. That's me. 

Pat. I see they wanted a coach drove down here ; so I 

Henry. No, we don't want no coach drove down here. 

Pat. O, I thought you did. 

Henry. No. 

Pat. Well, I saw in the newspapers that a gentleman wanted 
a coachman ; but I see I haven't found the gentleman. 

Henry. Did it say "Wanted a gentleman to drive a coach " ? 

Pat. No, but I thought one wouldn't do him any harm ; so I 
dropped down. 

Henry. Is dat so ? You did not leave anything behind— did 
you ? 



Pat. Don't you know ? 

Henry. How do I know? 

Pat. Well, there was some one trying to be up to me, but I 
think he is left behind. 

Heney. Where did you come from ? « 

Pat. I came from a place called Cole Island, in the Province 
of Ulster, in the County Tyrone, in the North of Ireland. 

Heney. I don't want to know your sisters, cousins, and 
aunts. I want to know where you came from now ? 

Pat. I was just hovering around the neighborhood, looking 
for a friend of mine named Clancy ; so I saw a newspaper stuck 
half way under a door — I suppose some one was trying to kick 
it out— and I looked in it and saw the place. 

Heney. Oh-h ! What was the number of the place ? 

Pat. 104 ; call in the basement to Butler. 

Heney. Perhaps the master wants a coachman, but he didn't 
tell nie about it. I will go and see. {Herwy loalks toward tube to 
call up.) 

Pat. Yes, I wish you would : for I'm a poor emigrant, with- 
out home or friends — a stranger to everybody. 

Heney. {Aside) I was a poor emigrant myself. {Aloud) A 
stranger in the city ! 

Pat. a stranger to every one. 

Heney. Come, I will be your friend ! ( Takes him by the hand.) 
Henry Blum wont see you want for anything. 

Pat. You are a gobd man. Think if you were an emigrant 
alone in a strange city, without home or friends ! 

Heney. I was an emigrant myself, and I know what it is to 
be without a friend. I'll be your friend, and do all I can for you. 

Pat. Then I'll be your friend as long as I live, and the devil 
an Italian will come between us ! 

Heney. Who was the Clancy you was looking for ? 

Pat. He was an old friend of mine at home. I was told he 
lived in the neighborhood of Thirty-fourth street, and 

Heney. I know^ a Denis Clancy. What does he do ? 

Pat. The devil a know I know ! But he was a Dublin coach- 
man at home, and the devil only knows what he was not ! 

Heney. Well, if it is the same ijian, he is a good fellow. 

Pat. Good fellow ?— well, the devil a better. 

HeneyV a good judge of whiskey. 

Pat. {Laughing.) Ah ! and he would give you half of what 
he had, too. 

.6 



Henkt. And more than his own, too. 

Pat. The half of anybody's, if he only had the whole him- 
self ' 

Henry Wait till I tell you. {Laughs.) His master has the 
best stock of liquors you could find. My master don't have any, 
nor would not allow any in the house. But Clancy-he takes a 
bottle over under his coat, and we sit down to a sociable glass.. 
Of course we don't leave any around for any one to see. be- 
cause 

Pat. Of course not. 

Henby. And Bridget— dat's Delia-she never tells any one. 
But at a regular sociable, where we have two bottles, it gener- 
ally tells on her. ■ 
Pat. I see ! You mean she speaks whiskey in every word 

she says ? . ^ ^ ' x 

Henet Yes. I will go down and see master {moves for door), 
and see what he will say. First, I will go over and tell Clancy 
you are here. 

Pat. O do that anyhow. 

Henry. O what is your name ? 

Pat. Patrick O'Day. 

Henry. Patrick O'Day ? 

Pat Yes, but call me simple Patrick. 

Henry. {Going out of door.) All right. Simple Patrick. {E.rAt 

Henry.) ^ , 

Pat. Arrah, that's the best sod of a Dutchman I ever saw ! 
Paith if I haven't found Denis Clancy— I've found his hospital- 
ity I'm in a nice state to present myself for a coachman ! I'm 
not the same looking man I was when I was a Dublin coachmai^. 
Then I had my fine silken hat and my beautiful corduroy breech- 
es But if I've not my hat and breeches, I have still my neat 
little pair of brogans, that skipped many a time over the place 
of my birth. ^^^^ 

sweet river ERIN, ADIEU ! 

Sweet Kiver Erin ! I've a memory therein- 
Sweetest of life's dearest joy ! 

It affords me great pleasure its image to treasure, 
And look back when I was a boy. 

On its shores, night and day, I'd sing my fond lay, 
And the linnet would chime in the swell ; 

The music still haunts me, but the place I'll ne'er see : • 
So, sweet Kiver Erin, farewell ! 
7 



Chqkus ; Youth's brightest days are oft sung in praise ; 
Its sorrows you fain would subdue. 

Still youth's love, you'll find, in old age haunts the mind : 
So, sweet River Erin, adieu ! 

There nests in my heart a jewel apart 

From the jewels I have treasured there ; 
And oft of an evening, when the bright moon is beaming, 

Her sweet face seems ever more dear. 
Ah ! hard is the strife from the love of your life, 

Though the hearts beat as one ever true ; 
My Eternal Love rests only above : 

So, sweet River Erin, adieu ! 

Chorus : Youth's brightest days, &c. 

'Neath the beautiful trees that swung with the breeze, 

And kissed the sweet waters so clear. 
For my earthly heaven where her fond love was given, 

My once joyous eyes fill with tears — 
There we listened, as doves^ to confessions of love 

From hearts that were never more true. 
Now joy is passed ; I kissed there my last : 

So, sweet River Erin, adieu ! 

Chorus : Youth's brightest days, &c. 

Pat. {Walks to 7Hg1it of table, and takes wp onion.) Faith, the 
Dutchman has a fine thing of it here ! {Shoinng onion) Plenty of 
fruit! {Turning to closet, sees and takes bottle) What is this? 
Ha, ha ! he don't keep any in the house, eh ? But you keep it 
in the closet ! Sure it wont be going out of the house if I take 
a drop, and it will be the first drop of American blood that's in 
me! {Drinks from bottle) what have I drank! I'm poisoned! 
It's kerosene oil ! {Tube sounds) What the devil is that ? {Goes 
over to speak tlirough it ; all the tvhile it is blowing) All right! all 
right! I suppose that's Bridget. She has an elegant pair of 
lungs. I'll spark her now {he blows through tube). Well, she is 
blathering away up there, but she can't hear me. {He blows vig- 
orouslj/) Well, I guess she heard me now. {Puts his ear to tube) 
She says she hears nothing ! Faith'; I'm blowing away at the 
devil's own rate, and I'll swear I'm somebody ! If she puts her 
face to it, either I or the kerosene will blow her down. {Blows 
till he becomes thirsty) Begob I'm as dry as a fish ! {C^'osses over to 



sink for water) I'll have to wet my palate before I blow any- 
longer. (i)m?^5) I am scalded— hot water ! O what two foes 
I have in me now ! The oil has the upper hand, and I feel as if I 
could put it back in the bottle ! 

Henky. {Outside.) Paddy ! 

Pat. Well? {Wondering where he is.) 

Heney. Paddy ! 

Pat. Where the devil is the Dutchman ? 

Heney. Simple Patrick, come here ; I want to pick a bone 
with you. 

Pat. Never mind, I'm not hungry. Simple Patrick, eh ? and 
Paddy ! Faith the Dutchman has a sweet voice, but I'll teach 
him to respect the name more, and not to have it in shtrauleens. 
I'll have him to put the full stress on the heroic name of 
Patrick ! {Exit.) 

{Denis Clancy, from without, ojwns window.) 

Denis. Hello, Patrick O'Day ! Where the devil is the man ? 
Ha, ha! Henry is playing more of his tricks, eh ? 0, then, I'll 
be even with him for this ! I'll go around and give him some 
trouble. {Closes shiittei's.) 

{Clancy on his way around meets Pat in the hall, and both can be 
heard congratulating each other coming in. Enter both dressed 
as coachmen.) 

Denis. Well, I never was so much surprised in my life! 
Faith, I didn't believe Henry. 

Pat. O how I'll surprise the girls when they see me ! How 
do I look ? 

Denis. Faith, you look as much like a citizen as I do. Sure 
I landed on the 27th of April, and I had my papers out the 
5th of the same month. 

Pat. What year did you come over in ? Let— me— see. 

Denis. Citizens' j^ear — '68. 

Pat. Your heart must have been in America long before you 
left Ireland ? 

Denis. Sure you know Mary came over before I did, and 
little of my heart was left behind, although your sister Mary 
was deadly in love with me before I left. 

Pat. And she is breaking her heart ever since with joy 

Denis. Sure I know. Tell me how is Pat O'Toole. I haven't 
heard from him in a long time. 

Pat. O he is the same old Pat, only older. 

9 



Denis. Takes a drop of the old stuff yet, I suppose ? 

Pat. Yes, and flakes the boys the same as ever. 

Denis. O I'll never forget him at the cock-fight at McCor- 
mack's ! 

Pat. Then often I heard of the tricks of Paddy. 

Denis. O I'll never forget it ! {Laughs.) 

Pat. Tell me about that, Denis. 

Denis. Paddy had a drop of the creature in him, and of 
course they wouldn't let him in ; and Paddy Monaghan and big 
Phil Casey were at the door to keep him out. {Laughs.) 

Pat. Go on with your stor3% Denis. 

Denis. But Paddy hearing the fighting going on inside, 
made one bounce for the door, and tossed Paddy Monaghan on 
the broad of his back ! But Phil Casey held him, and said "If 
you get in here, you are a better man than I!" And just then 
the cocks fastened on each other, and the crowd roared ; and as 
hunger knows no law — be heavens ! Paddy bit his ear off, and in 
he walked ! 

Pat. And in he walked ? 

Denis. And in he walked ! 

Pat. Then often I heard of hira. 

Denis. {Laughing :) Ha ! ha ! It was the greatest fight I 
ever saw ! 

Pat. It's a w^onder to me they didn't try and reform him. 

Denis. Eeform him ! why, they might as well try and keep 
Ball Quinn from talking about people as to take the twist out of 
his legs ! 

Pat. That's so ; and a comical twist they were — for if he 
ever got the hip-lock on a man, he was sure to bring him dow^n. 

Denis. {Takes bottle, and x>ours some in glass.) Do you take 
this, Pat ? 

Pat. {Aside) No, but it's taking to me, I'm afraid. {Aloud) 
Yes, Denis, I'm taking to it. 

Denis. Then here, take it, and let me drink your health. 

Pat. {Taking glass.) No, first let me drink yours : for the 
glass is never well taken without a toast from the receiver. 

Denis. I acquiesce. 

Pat. Here is that the lover of this may never mistake kero- 
sene for it ! 

Denis. And here is health and prosperity to the united 
coachmen. 

(Music.) 
10 



SONG. 

THE COACHMEN. 

Two coachmen of the upper ten 

Are yours respectfully ; 
Classified, we're not denied 

The elite society ; 
Fashioned out by the beau monde, 

So terse in every act, 
That the mounted squad give a passing nod. 
We're just so matter-of-fact. 
Chorus : Dong goes the bell ! 

We're always in our places ; 

Highly envied is the seat 

Our elegant form graces. 

Snap goes the whip, 

Away goes the pacers ; 

Don't you bow, for we've no time now- 

It's highly impolite ! 

We have a pleasant duty, 

Which is envied by the swells— 
We wait upon Miss Maude and Blanche, 

Society's famed bells ; 
We nobly play the gallant 

When to mount we take her shoe ; 
The feeling caused ! — we should have paused — 

That's strictly e7itre nous. 

Chorus : Dong goes the bell, &c. 

When out upon the avenue. 

Most every Sunday eve. 
The ladies sigh as we go by— 

For one sweet glance they grieve ; 
Depict our salutations 

To the servants in the flats. 
When duty's done, like the Number One, 

We raise our bell-top hats. 

Chorus: Dong goes the bell, &c. 



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